Putting the Fun in Family Function
by juneprota
Summary: *SLASH* It's not a family function until someone gets their feelings hurt. GregWarrick.


**Putting the Fun in Family Function**

by juneprota

Warrick creeped along the side of his grandmother's house. When he reached the front porch he took a seat on the top step. He'd just peeled off the wrapper to his popsicle when he heard a gasp from his left side. Warrick ignored the noise. He knew who it was. Only one person always managed to find him when he was stealth mode. And Greg would talk whether he was paying attention or not.

"You stole the last popsicle."

Warrick took a bite out of his popsicle, before Greg did something crazy like take it away from him. His boyfriend didn't handle the heat well. Warrick muttered around the cold lime-y ice goodness. "I didn't steal it."

Greg took a seat next to Warrick. "You're not even going to share it, are you?" It was one of those double popsicles with two sticks. All day people had been breaking them in half to share. But, no, Warrick was being selfish. "I'm disappointed in you, Rick."

Warrick slid his eyes to Greg. He mentally calculated the odds of Greg putting out that evening if he was denied half of the popsicle. Greg read his mind. "Not good."

Warrick broke it apart and handed half to Greg. "Happy?"

He took a long lick and nearly purred. "Very."

Warrick watched as Greg took another long lick. "You're not about to give it a blow job are you? Because if you are, I'll leave right now and give you two some privacy."

Greg slid his eyes to Warrick. "Hey, I'm not even thinking about sex. It's too hot. The popsicle lasts longer this way."

"Whatever." Warrick took another bite of his popsicle. A minute or so later, he finished the popsicle as Greg kept licking away at his. "So...you gonna share?" Greg glared. "Come on, babe." Warrick leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Please." He kissed the soft spot beneath Greg's ear.

Greg shoved him away. "Get the fuck away from me. It's way too hot. I'm serious. You cannot get that close to me. I demand 12 inches of--"

"I've got your--" Warrick was interrupted by a scream from the back porch. "Watch that mouth, Gregory. You're not too old for a switch."

Greg yelled back. "Sorry, Grams." When he turned back to his popsicle, there was a huge chunk missing and Warrick was chewing. Greg glared. "I want a divorce."

Warrick leaned back, his hands resting on the hot cement. "Sure you do."

Greg continued licking his popsicle. "You know, that's your whole problem, War--"

Warrick interrupted. "You've been hanging out with Aunt Bertha too much." It was a well known fact that Aunt Bertha used these family functions to diagnose everyone with "their whole problem."

Greg ignored Warrick's interruption and repeated himself. "Your whole problem, _Warrick_, is that you're all about the instant gratification. No patience." Warrick rolled his eyes and continued watching the basketball game happening on the courts across the street. A few of his younger cousins and guys from the neighborhood had started up a game and invited Warrick to join in. It'd always been a competition of experience vs youth. But Warrick was finally getting to that point where his age wasn't helping him. There was no way he was beating a bunch of 20-somethings. Hell, in this heat, he probably would have fallen out with a heart attack or heat stroke.

It'd been bad enough earlier that day, when Grams had asked him to lug the huge-ass barbecue out of the basement to put in the backyard. Warrick sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. "You know, Grams birthday is coming up. I'm thinking of getting a back patio put in on this place...get one of those cement barbecues. What do you think?"

Greg placed his popsicle stick next to Warrick's on the porch. "I think you're lazy."

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, babe?. All week you're promising to help me, we get here, and what do you do? Sit in the kitchen, drink lemonade, and eat cookies."

"I supervised."

"Right."

"Aw, don't be mad." Greg patted Warrick's knee. "You know me. Heat, physical labor, sweat. We just don't mix."

Warrick poked Greg's stomach. "A little physical labor might do you some good, dough boy."

Greg pouted. "Hey, it's not my fault. Her food is good." They'd been spending a lot of time at Grams this summer and the woman was convinced that Greg was dying of starvation. If the way Greg scarfed down her food was any indication, she might have been right. Their fridge at home was packed with tupperware full of Grams home-cooking. Greg hadn't learned the art of saying no yet and as a result had gained a few pounds.

"Don't worry. I'll still love you when I have to wheel you around because you're so obese."

"Ha. Ha."

Just as Warrick stood to stretch a bit, a kid came running to the front. "Auntie Brenda and Terri are fighting."

"Finally." Warrick watched as the kid looked both ways before running across the street to tell the guys playing basketball. It wasn't a family function until someone got their feelings hurt. The fighting, the tears - that's why you went, for the live drama.

Warrick gave his hand to Greg to help him up. They started walking along the side of the house toward the backyard. "Terri and Brenda? What do you think they're arguing about? I know Brenda can't keep her mouth shut, but..."

"You know Terri's 'fiance' doesn't have a job right?" Greg used air quotes, but that was another story.

"What?"

"Yeah, she made up the whole bank job thing. Actually, I think he committed a bank job, if you know what I mean." Greg actually made up that last part, but it wasn't gossip unless you added to the story, right?

"What?" Warrick repeated himself and shook his head. "How do you know about this and I don't?"

"Me and Aunt Bertha are like this." Greg held up his tightly crossed fingers. "I taught her how to use email a couple weeks ago. I get updates. There's an email list."

Warrick stopped in his tracks. "There's an email list?"

"It's the 21st century Rick. Of course there's an email list."

"How are you on this list and I'm not?"

Greg shrugged. "They love me more?"

Warrick frowned. "Can I get on the list?"

Greg laughed. "Yeah, right." He grabbed his boyfriend's hand and dragged him toward the back. "Come on Vegas, we're missing the fight."

**The End**


End file.
